The Rebel: alien dragon shifter romance (Mate Hunt Book 2), page 1
The Rebel
Riley Onyx
Copyright © 2021 by Riley Onyx
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Created with Vellum
Contents
The Rebel
1. Maden
2. Ella
3. Maden
4. Ella
5. Maden
6. Ella
7. Maden
8. Ella
9. Maden
10. Ella
11. Maden
12. Ella
13. Maden
14. Ella
15. Maden
16. Ella
Epilogue
Also by Riley Onyx
About the Author
The Rebel
Ella
I’ve been watching and filming and reporting on what is being called an alien invasion. When a military-looking guy tries to steal my footage, another man steps into save me, and he’s definitely not human. Now I don’t know who to trust…
Maden
I refused an order to fall back to Camelot because my mate was nearby. I need to find her and claim her. When she is attacked, I step in. Now all I have to do is convince her I am one of the good aliens and that she is my mate.
One
Maden
While the fall had been exciting, the hunt was less so. In part because of Bleiz’s warning about the Fomuri, and in part because there’s so many damn people everywhere. I’ve been on spaceports dedicated to pleasure that were less crowded when three cruisers were there to resupply and give the crew some down time. From the records—which I made the time to study when I was told this was my stop—the changes in the planet since the last hunt one hundred years ago are incredible.
The humans went from coal to computers. Few civilizations make such a sudden jump without help, though some would call it interference. I don’t care either way, all I want is a mate.
I almost wish my name had been drawn for one of those planets the rulers selected the women for us. Sometimes they wanted to be rid of some troublemakers, sometimes they were honored and selected the best. The Merlzhen have to be grateful for whatever we get since portal jumping through space has damaged our DNA, so women are no longer born. Finding a mate isn’t easy, but some travelled and did. Most tried to get on a long-range trip to check the borders, like me.
I’m jostled as I make my way through the crowd. The language upload has difficulty with all the voices and words, and it’s giving me a headache. Trying to find a compatible woman amongst the millions in this one city… Okay, there will be plenty, but I have to stumble on one first. And it’s not like they hang a sign on the door saying they had a Merlzhen ancestor way back when.
A compatible mate is the best option. Though any mate will do, if I run out of time.
I’m aware that the hours are sliding by, so I keep moving. After landing I acquired some more appropriate clothing, though there is nowhere for me to stick my tail and I don’t like hiding it either. Unlike some other planets, at least here I do not stand out—as long as I don’t shift.
I deliberately brush against someone in the crowd and take their wallet. I help myself to their money, they still use quaint paper notes which makes it easy to steal, then buy myself a burger.
We aren’t supposed to steal, but what is command going to do? They’ll never find out.
I order the same as the man in front of me. I have no idea what it is because I can’t read the menu, only that it appears to be a hot sandwich. Every spaceport has something similar. I savor holding the paper wrapped burger in my hands and inhale the scent of the meat. My mouth waters, anticipating the first bite.
It is so nice to have actual food instead of that nutritionally balanced, but boring, replacement on the ship. I don’t know what nutritional value the burger has, and I don’t care either, but I hope it is as delicious as it smells. I have been let down before—that is the downside of buying random food in a spaceport. Only twice has it made me ill.
Not often enough for me to resist the temptation. Besides, if humans can eat this, and we are genetically compatible, the odds are low. I unwrap the burger and take a bite. Juices flow into my mouth and I stop to make the most of them. This is good. If it kills me, it will have been worth it.
Since I’ve been here, I have sensed something. What I hope is at least one potential mate. I walk and eat, figuring if I cover enough ground I will find her. Too soon the burger is gone, leaving only the taste and greasy feel in my mouth. I lick my fingers, then toss the rubbish in the trash and wonder what else I can eat while I am here.
I want to make full use of my fifty hours grounded.
With a cluster of humans, I wait to cross the road. Mimicking them is easy. And as long as I do the same as them, no one pays any attention to me. Halfway across I get that feeling again. I tilt my head and listen, but it’s not a noise. I’ve stopped in the road and someone crashes into me. I want to snarl but mutter an apology while trying to focus on the sensation. It’s something I can’t explain, only that I know in the core of my bones that there is a potential mate nearby. I scan the street, and the shops that line it, then lift my gaze to the buildings above. She could be anywhere, and I can’t break into buildings to find her…or can I?
No, I’m not that desperate yet. Maybe when I’m down to my last ten hours, I will become more reckless. Maybe she can sense me. Bleiz’s mate knew something was up and met him when he landed.
They were also attacked by Fomuri.
Unlike Bleiz, I landed and saw no one.
It’s hard to miss the Fomuri, as they tend to be tall, stocky, and hairy. The men also have horns and tusks. After pacing up the street and back, and not getting any closer to the potential mate, I give up and go into a bar. I use the last of the stolen money to buy a drink, knowing I should be able to help myself to a little more cash while I’m in here, particularly as the night wears on and the men become careless—some things are the same no matter where I travel.
For the moment, I’m happy to sit and watch and learn. There are three screens, each one showing something different. I’m hoping to see the news again. One of the reporters who covered the meteorite shower—that’s what the humans are calling our fall to Earth—is very pretty. Or at least she’s what I think a beautiful human looks like. Human men might have different ideals.
There’s no news on the screens tonight. Two of the screens are showing a game where men in different colored shirts chase a ball around. It seems to be very popular, so when the bar erupts in a cheer; I join in. Someone buys me a drink to help me celebrate.
It’s no wonder humans need protecting from aliens. They don’t recognize one when he is sitting right next to them. Which makes me think about the Fomuri again. What if this time they didn’t arrive with their weapons armed? What if they arrived by stealth and slowly, slowly, infiltrated? What if they helped humans advance?
I don’t like where my thoughts are leading, and speculation will achieve nothing. I need to focus on my search and leave the Fomuri dilemma to those who are paid to do the thinking.
A man leans out the bar door and flaps his hand. “Come out, you’ve got to see this.”
People glance between the games on the screens and the door.
The man in the doorway tries again. “There’s a spaceship in the sky.”
That gets everyone’s attention, including mine. There should only be one spaceship in the area, and that’s the one I’m assigned to. I want to ask him what the ship looks like even though that isn’t a smart move. And besides, he wouldn’t know the difference between a Merlzhen vessel and a Fomuri vessel.
I’m out of my seat and weaving toward the door before anyone else, still holding the beer in my hand. It’s bitter but not disgusting, I’ve certainly drunk worse. I get caught in the stampede to be out onto the street, and it takes precious seconds to squeeze out of the bar. My heart is beating fast as I spill on to the footpath with the other humans. Then I turn my gaze skyward, and my mouth falls open.
It’s my ship.
My ship is visible. And it’s being fired on.
Who is firing at us? The humans?
The beer and burger sours in my stomach. I know the answer. The Fomuri.
Around me, the humans speculate. “Do you think it’s real?”
“Is it from a movie?”
“Some promo stunt?”
Then a pulse goes through me and with my next breath light flares as my ship is torn into a thousand fragments. I stumble and bump into another guy. He gives me a bit of a shove, but he’s too busy watching the drama unfold to throw a punch.
Even though the humans are seeing it, they don’t believe it.
They still question if it’s real.
I don’t want to believe it’s real either. I can’t breathe, my ship is destroyed. We are stranded. My brain can’t pull together what I should do next. So like the others, I stand in the street and watch as the first pieces of my ship burn up as they enter the atmosphere. There
If they are shifted and protected by their scales and their suit, they will survive.
But this was our second last stop. Most of the men had mates, and the mates can’t shift. Some of those mates were already pregnant. We need those babies. They are the next generation of Merlzhen. My eyes burn at the loss.
My jump watch vibrates with an incoming message. I tear my gaze from the fire strewn sky and glance down, turning the dial so the message appears on screen. It’s an order to fall back to the collection point. To Camelot. And to avoid confrontation with the Fomuri at all costs. Fuck that.
“It’s like that meteorite shower the other day, hey do you think that was aliens too?” someone asks. “Have aliens landed?”
No one answers him as they are all too busy making their own incorrect observations out loud. I push through the crowd until I’m free of them, sucking in breaths of air as I walk. I finish the beer and toss the glass in the trash. Above me, the sky is filled with burning debris. How long until it reaches the ground?
A part of me wants to hope that the humans shot us down. That it was an accident or they’re afraid of us or something. Because if it was the Fomuri, that means they are ready and have been waiting for us to arrive for the Mate Hunt. It means that Bleiz wasn’t wrong about the Fomuri being here.
I can’t have been the only Merlzhen hoping he was wrong, or thinking he was wrong. While he’s a friend, no one wants a battle when we should only be worrying about finding a mate.
We volunteered to claim mates, not to defend the world from the Fomuri, even though we were brought up on the tales of old battles. We learn the history of the planet’s we protect so we know a little of where our mates come from. And while there has been the occasional skirmish with the Fomuri over the last five hundred years, for the most part things have been quiet. They have been terraforming uninhabited worlds as though their last defeat, which happened on Earth, has changed their ways.
I mutter a curse.
The Fomuri haven’t changed. They were just distracting us. And we fell for this ruse. What if they have been infiltrating every planet that we’re supposed to be guarding, and this was just the first one to launch an attack? This planet is the furthest one from our home world. Help will take the longest to reach us, even with the portal jumps.
I shudder as I realize this has been planned for a very long time. Maybe the Fomuri were already here one hundred years ago, plotting and scheming and wheedling their way into society. Usually, they blast in and take what they want. They take over worlds and use the existing population to do the work for them. Then they use the planet, tear it and the people apart, until it is rubble, before moving on.
Or that’s what they had been doing. This new way is too cunning. Too unbelievable. It is no wonder our leaders never suspected what the Fomuri were up to.
I don’t know where I’m heading, only that I cannot fallback. I want Fomuri blood to run the streets, though it won’t bring back my ship mates.
My head snaps up. There it is again, the tingle in my teeth, and the buzz in my bones. Same potential mate or a different one?
How can I be thinking of a mate right now?
I draw in a breath. I should only be thinking of revenge.
Two
Ella
“What we’ve witnessed over the last three days is something that should only have been seen in science fiction movies.” I keep my gaze on the camera, but I can feel the heat from the recently fallen alien spacecraft washing against the back of my legs. We were the first TV crew on the scene. It’s exciting and terrifying and as long as I focus on reporting what I see, I can’t freak out about the reality that aliens exist.
“What started with a meteorite shower three days ago has revealed that we are under attack from alien forces.” I turn slightly to indicate the burning wreckage. “Behind me burns a segment of the ship that was hidden, invisible to telescopes—” I can’t believe I’m saying this. I’m making a news report about an alien ship. “But our satellites and military found it before a full-scale attack could be launched. However, there are fears that there are aliens already on the ground. The military is warning civilians not to approach and to call the hotline that has been set up.”
Black clad, heavily built, military guys are forming a perimeter around the burning chunk of ship. One of them walks toward me. My cameraman gives me a signal. I’m aware that we are about to have our equipment confiscated. Perhaps they’ll shoo us off, but they’ve been cracking down hard on all media reporting anything about the aliens. With some reporters being taken in for questioning.
I can come down hard too. “However, despite repeated requests, the government and the military have refused to give us any information about what we should look out for before calling the hotline. We don’t know what the aliens look like or what they want or why they are here. It’s unclear if any attempt at peaceful communication was even made.”
The serious looking military dude with a beard that would make a lumberjack happy has almost reached me.
“With the alien ship breaking up all over the south of England, questions need to be asked. Were these aliens friendly? Or have we fired the first shot in a galactic war that we are unprepared to fight?”
The camera is wrenched out of my cameraman’s hands. Alan puts up a small fight, but not enough to get himself hurt or arrested. Neither of us is that green.
“No recording near alien artifacts. This area is a no-go zone.” The military man throws the camera on the ground and it breaks into half a dozen pieces. My cameraman groans. It’s only equipment, expensive equipment, but it can be replaced. More importantly our footage went live people have already seen it and will be talking.
I want answers. After years of searching the skies for extraterrestrial life, the first time a ship arrives, even if it was only there to observe, we shoot it. That’s not going to look good on our intergalactic report card. I shouldn’t be shocked though. Most of my career has been spent in war zones. Humans will fight over anything and everything.
Something moves from the shadows, then the military man is knocked over. I stare at the attacker. His skin gleams golden in the flames. Then he stands and wipes his hands. I see the blade in his hand before he carefully sheathes it and I take a step back.
“You’re safe now.” The man with a knife says.
Unsurprisingly, I don’t feel any safer. Alan has his phone out, I hope he is recording. With a camera in every pocket the military had no chance of calling this a reentering satellite, or a collision in space. They didn’t even attempt to lie, which bothers me more than it should. It’s like they want us to know there are aliens.
Why?
Why come clean now?
Everything I’ve seen and heard tells me something isn’t adding up.
Several other black-clad men move toward us.
The man with the golden skin glances around as though assessing the threat. “We need to leave.”
“I haven’t done anything wrong.” But I take a few steps toward Alan. Our van is halfway up the block. I suspect that even if we run, we won’t make it and I don’t want to be shot in the back for fleeing. “I’m a journalist. I’m doing my job, and I have every right to be here. What are you doing here?”
I risk a glance at the fallen soldier. I think he’s dead.
I don’t know if my cameraman is streaming the footage or just recording it. I glance at Alan before returning my attention to the man with the now hidden knife.
He stares at Alan as though only just noticing him. “What are you doing?”
Something either in the building that the ship landed on, or the ship itself explodes. I duck, expecting debris to fly at me. Maybe I spent too long reporting in war zones when I was younger, hoping to make my name on the world stage.
